Not now, my child! — a little more rough tossing,
A little longer on the billows' foam;
A few more journeyings in the desert darkness,
And then the sunshine of thy Father's Home!
Not now; for I have wanderers in the distance,
And thou must call them in with patient love:
Not; now; for I have sheep upon the mountains,
And thou must follow them where'er they rove.
Not now; for I have loved ones sad and weary;
Wilt thou not cheer them with a kindly smile?
Sick ones, who need thee in their lonely sorrow;
Wilt thou not tend them yet a little while?
Not now; for wounded hearts are sorely bleeding,
And thou must teach those widowed hearts to sing;
Not now; for orphans' tears are quickly falling —
They must be gathered ‘neath some sheltering wing.
Go, with the name of Jesus to the dying,
And speak that name in all its living power;
Why should thy fainting heart grow chill and weary?
Canst thou not watch with Me one little hour?
One little hour! and then the glorious crowning,
The golden harp-strings, and the victor's palm;
One little hour! and then the hallelujah!
Eternity's long, deep, thanksgiving psalm!